The Bride’s Matchmaking Triplets. Regina Scott

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СКАЧАТЬ Brandon hadn’t introduced her, but she was certain it was only a matter of time.

      “And what sort of adventures does your brother want to have?” she asked, lifting her green silk skirts away from a puddle in the path.

      Brandon smiled. “He wants to move to Texas and build a cattle ranch. He’s been studying under a rancher here, and he thinks he’s ready to take on the frontier.”

      “Like a cowboy in the dime novels?” Elizabeth grinned. “How marvelous! What could be more thrilling than fighting desperadoes to carve a home in the wilderness?”

      Brandon tossed another rock in the pond with a plunk. “Well, the Texas Rangers make short work of any desperadoes, from what I understand. But Bo will certainly be carving at the wilderness.” He glanced her way. “He wants me to go with him.”

      To Texas? The image that came to mind, of a woman in gingham skirts shooting her own dinner as she rode across the plains, was brave and bold and a little scary. She wanted adventure, but perhaps she ought to start with something more tame.

      She’d linked arms with Brandon. “Too bad you’re already being considered for a position at St. Matthew’s. We can cheer your brother on from here. Just think how much fun it will be to sit around the hearth and read his postcards.”

      She’d never dreamed necessity would drive her to this Texas town, or that she’d discover Brandon here as well.

      She went to the window now and gazed out at Little Horn. The boardinghouse was near the end of Second Street, with the church and school among the buildings opposite. She could see the doctor’s house between them. Louisa, the doctor’s daughter who had first cared for the triplets, had married Brandon’s brother, Bo. The two men were twins, it seemed. Why hadn’t she known that? Why hadn’t she been good enough to meet his family?

      Why hadn’t she been good enough to be his wife?

      She could still see Florence’s face as her friend had relayed the hurtful message a few days after the scandal about her uncle had become common knowledge.

      “He releases you from any agreement you might have thought the two of you had,” she’d said, pretty face scrunched as if she’d felt Elizabeth’s pain. “As a minister, he must protect his reputation. He hopes you’ll understand.”

      But she hadn’t. He’d claimed to love her. Though he hadn’t proposed yet, he’d given her every indication that he would do so soon. They’d shared a tender kiss that had left her breathless.

      She was still the same person, for all her uncle had been sent to prison, his properties foreclosed to pay off those he’d swindled. Why must she be punished for his actions?

      She’d wanted to go to Brandon, beg him to reconsider. If there were those who would condemn him for associating with the family of a convict, surely there were others who would praise him for his charity. But Florence had convinced her that Brandon would not see her, so she had soldiered on alone.

      And Brandon had headed west to become pastor of the church in Little Horn. His reputation must have remained spotless, for everyone in the area seemed to adore him.

      Eli whimpered in his sleep, recalling her to her duty. The little sweetheart was growing another tooth on the bottom, the pearly nub just breaking through, and she knew his tender gums kept him from sleeping soundly.

      Her heart, it seemed, was just as tender when it came to Brandon Stillwater. Only this time, she would listen to her head instead, and it cautioned her to keep her distance.

      * * *

      How was he supposed to keep his distance? Brandon’s legs ate up the dusty ground as he headed for his next appointment at the railway station. By word and deed, Elizabeth made it clear she had no use for him. But he was the minister. Having no parents, Jasper, Theo and Eli were under his care, for all he could not see to their needs on a moment-by-moment basis. He had every right and responsibility to check on them, to make sure they were safe and well cared for.

      He couldn’t deny she was doing a good job. The boys seemed content in her company, happy even, especially after being shuttled between houses since their mother had abandoned them. Elizabeth was good to them, efficient, yet gentle, taking the time to talk to and touch her little charges as if she were their mother.

      She’d make a marvelous mother and a wonderful wife.

      A wife for someone other than him. He had to remember that.

      The best thing he could do was keep busy, which shouldn’t be hard. He had a long list of tasks today. Amos Crenshaw had asked him to stop by to discuss the house the railway was building for the stationmaster and his family. Brandon ought to check on Tug Coleman and see how the widowed rancher was faring after the wildfire that had destroyed part of his spread. Then he’d swing over to Dorothy Hill’s to make sure the feisty widow and her brood were helping repair the damage as she’d promised. He had a sermon to develop before Sunday and the Harvest Festival to plan.

      But even after Amos gave him some excellent news he knew would make David McKay rejoice, Brandon’s feet drew him back to the boardinghouse that afternoon. This time, he didn’t even have to go inside, for Elizabeth and the babies were out front. She’d managed to wrestle the handcart down the stairs and was just rearranging the babies inside it, back bent and glorious hair hidden under a straw hat. But it was the person standing next to her that had Brandon hurrying forward to help.

      Constance Hickey, church pianist and all-around busybody, was lecturing Elizabeth as he reached their sides.

      “And cod-liver oil,” she said, shaking a bony finger at the babies as if scolding them. “One dose in the morning and one at night. It will help them develop strong constitutions.”

      The babies all nodded, but Brandon thought it was more likely they were following the movement of Mrs. Hickey’s finger than agreeing with her recommendation.

      “I’ll be sure to bear that in mind,” Elizabeth said. Brandon thought he might be the only person in Little Horn who would have detected the annoyance under the polite response.

      “Good afternoon, Mrs. Hickey,” he greeted the older lady. “How kind of you to take an interest in our triplets.”

      The thin woman raised her head, aiming her pointed nose in his direction. “And did not our Lord demand that we help the poor and lowly like Miss Dumont?”

      Elizabeth’s lovely lips tightened. It had to have been one of the first times she’d heard herself referred to as either poor or lowly.

      “Oh, I doubt our Lord would have considered Miss Dumont in need of our charity,” he told the older woman. “Her skills in caring for the triplets are notable.”

      Mrs. Hickey frowned. “And exactly where did she learn, a young lady like herself? Has no one checked her references?”

      Brandon knew David McKay must have some knowledge, or he would never have sent for her when he’d thought he needed a mail-order bride to help raise his daughter, Maggie. But Brandon hadn’t been able to figure out a way to ask without raising questions.

      Elizabeth cast Mrs. Hickey a glance. “I was a governess in Boston, and the household had two younger children along with my older charges. The nanny and I often assisted each other.”

      Mrs. СКАЧАТЬ